


If The Positions Were Switched

by Savay



Series: 9 Days of Sense8 [1]
Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: 9daysofsense8, F/M, Gen, wolfieappreciationday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 16:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11108745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savay/pseuds/Savay
Summary: Wolfgang is many things, but he is not a talker.(Written for #WolfieAppreciationDay for #9DaysofSense8.  #BringBackSense8, etc etc.  Please contact me if you haven't seen the petition to renew the show yet.)





	If The Positions Were Switched

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up mostly being about Wolfgang from Felix's point of view, but you know, whatever.
> 
> This is partially based off of the headcanons I've posted on Tumblr, although amended for inaccuracies that someone pointed out to me. (http://timisaliar.tumblr.com/tagged/sense8-headcanons)
> 
> This fic can be reblogged here if you're interested! (http://timisaliar.tumblr.com/post/161493605932/if-the-positions-were-switched)

Felix has been more than a little confused lately.  First, Wolfgang disappears without saying anything to him.  That had been weird enough.  He knew things had been getting hot with the mob bosses and that Wolfgang had said he was considering the India Plan again, but Felix had assumed Wolfgang would at least have told him if he was leaving.

He tries to put the question he’d never gotten to ask (Why India?) out of his mind.  It went to the same corner where he put all the other unasked questions he had for his best friend.  (Why he’s been acting so weird for the last year.  When had he had the time to learn new styles of fighting?  What did those sudden looks of bright joy and deep sadness mean?  And why, when Wolfgang didn’t think Felix was listening, did Wolfgang talk to himself in more languages than Felix cared to count?)  Felix knew better than to try to pry with his best friend.  That was easily the fastest way to get him to close up.  No, Felix knew that with Wolfgang the only thing to do was wait.  When his friend felt ready to say something, Felix would know.  That was how their friendship worked.

But now, there is no Wolfgang around to wait for.  Felix gives it a day of Wolfgang not answering his phone before he starts checking his contacts around the Berlin.  After another two days with no reliable news that one of the mobs is responsible for a hit, Felix is really starting to get worried.  Someone would have taken responsibility for Wolfgang’s death by now – that was how this whole territory thing worked, right?

So that’s how, on the night of that third day, Felix finds himself walking up to Wolfgang’s building.  Without so much as batting an eye, he rolls up to Wolfgang’s flat and unlocks the door like he owns the place.  (Running a locksmith’s shop had its perks.  Not that Wolfgang would really have cared.  Felix knew the other man would be doing the exact same if their positions were switched.)  After closing the door behind him and taking a look around, it doesn’t take long for Felix to know something isn’t right.  There is a half-packed suitcase on the bed.  When he gets closer, he sees Wolfgang’s gun wrapped in a pair of boxers, sitting right on top of the rest of the clothes for anyone to find.

This is very, very wrong.

Before Felix can even begin to try formulating a plan, though, his phone rings.  He pulls it out of his pocket and looks at the screen.  Unknown Number.  And if this isn’t the plot to some horror move he’s seen, he doesn’t know what is.  But Wolfgang was the smart one, and he’s missing, and Felix doesn’t know what else to do, so he answers.

“Yes?” he says, cautious.

“Felix?” a woman’s replies from the other end.  The sound quality is shit, but he can hear the concern in her voice.

“Who is this?”

He hears a sigh on the other end.  “It’s complicated,” the woman says.  She replies in accented English, but he can’t quite place where from.  “My name is Riley.  I’m a friend of Wolfgang’s.”

And of all the things he needs right now, it is _not_ one of Wolfgang’s old hook-ups.  He switches to English, the language rolling unfamiliarly off his tongue.  “Uh, hi.  Look, I don’t know how you got this number, but Wolfgang isn’t here right-”

“I know,” she says.                                  

That shuts Felix up for a second.  “What do you mean?” he slowly asks.

“That’s why I’m calling.”  There is a real ache in her voice.

Now he’s interested.  Felix sits on Wolfgang’s mattress.  “Do you know where he is?”

Another sigh from the woman.  ( _Riley,_ he thinks.)  If he didn’t know better, he would think she was trying not to cry.  “No.  But he is in trouble, and he would want us to get you somewhere safe,” she says.

Felix scoffs.  “Why can’t he tell me himself?”  (The unspoken, _He wouldn’t just leave me,_ sits in his throat.)

This time, he’s sure he hears a muffled sob.  “There are…people.  People who took him.  People who are…who are hurting him.  We’re trying to get him back, but I can’t tell you much right now.”  Riley’s voice changes slightly as she continues, “Your phone’s not secure.”

Felix would be offended if he weren’t so worried.  “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?” he asks.

There is another shift in Riley’s voice when she says, “‘No one, not even you, will remember if we were good men or bad. Why we fought, or why we died. All that matters is that two stood against many.’”

His heart drops.  Wolfgang is many things, but he is not a talker.  Certainly not about the past.  If this woman isn’t fucking with Felix, something serious must have happened for Wolfgang to have told anyone about that.  He doesn’t know what else to do, so when Riley gives him an address on the outskirts of London, he just goes.

\---

Felix uses some of what’s left of the diamond money on the first plane ticket to England.  It’s not cheap, but he knows it’s nothing compared to what Wolfgang has given for him.  Once there, he rents a car with cash as well, not sure exactly how covert he’s supposed to be.  By the time he gets to the warehouse at the edge of the city, Felix is getting a bit paranoid.  He knocks on the door slowly, not sure whether or not he’s about to walk into a massive trap.  Before he has a chance to second-guess himself, a man with short-cropped brown hair pulls him inside.

This man immediately puts Felix on high alert.  He may be a bit rough around the edges, but everything from his defensive posture to the discerning look in his eye screams cop to Felix.  “Who are you?”

Before the man answers, he locks the door behind him (there are multiple locks, actually, Felix notices anxiously) and pulls Felix away from it.  And then, seemingly from the woodwork, others start to emerge.  There are so many more of them than Felix had bargained for, and he realizes that if this _is_ a trap he is well and truly fucked.

One of them, a pale woman with bleach-blonde hair streaked blue, steps forward.  “I’m Riley,” she says.  Her voice matches the one he heard over the phone.  Felix isn’t sure if this is a good or a bad thing.

Suddenly, though, he is overwhelmed with all of them talking at once, stumbling over each other to greet him, as if he is someone they’ve all been eager to meet.  They’re talking so quickly, and their accents are varying so widely, that Felix has a hard time keeping up.

“Hey, hey, slow down.  I don’t know what’s going on, but I can’t understand you all if you talk so quickly,” he interjects, his own English accented just as thickly as theirs.  He watches enough movies to understand American and British accents pretty well, but it’s been a while since he’s actually had to converse in the language.

A tall woman with glasses sighs, another with colorful dreads behind her squeezing her hand.  (Felix hadn’t noticed the woman behind glasses-girl at first.  She doesn’t seem quite as excited as most of them.)  “Sorry, forgot about that,” the woman who sighed says in a clear, American accent.  “Normally German’s not a problem but…oh shit.”  Felix is just getting more confused by the second.  The almost-creepy simultaneous look the rest of them give the woman doesn’t help.

From there, they really have no choice but to clue him in as best they can with the little time they have.

\---

Felix only sort of understood what they told him.  Some of it made sense.  (Wolfgang talking to himself.  The secrets.  And if the teary eyes of an Indian woman told him anything, those random emotions Felix couldn’t understand.)  Other things just seemed downright impossible.  (These people had never met in person before, but they were all connected somehow.  In their brains.  Right.)  But it doesn’t really matter, because it all amounts to the same thing.  Someone – not these people – had Wolfgang.  And because of their connection, they were torturing him to get to the rest.

Felix knew Wolfgang would rather die than break.  If it was within his power to do so, he wasn’t going to let his best friend have to make that choice.

\---

After they’ve dealt with everything (well, as much dealt with as kidnapping two hostages from a giant extra-governmental organization and trading them for his best friend as someone could be) and Wolfgang is no longer in critical condition, Felix decides it’s finally time that he got some answers.

They’ve moved to a new warehouse in London, a temporary safehouse until Wolfgang is well enough to leave the country.  The Indian woman ( _Kala,_ Felix reminds himself) is kneeling by Wolfgang’s mattress, checking his vitals.  (Felix has noticed she checks Wolfgang’s vitals an awful lot, but who is he to judge?)  Felix walks up and sits on the opposite side of the mattress from Kala, crossing his legs on the concrete floor.

“So,” Felix says, smirking at Wolfgang.

He doesn’t have to be one of them to know that Wolfgang knows what he’s going to ask.  But ever stubborn, “So,” Wolfgang replies, grinning back.

After staring him down for a second, Felix blurts out, “What the actual fuck is going on, Wolfie?”

Wolfgang’s grin cracks into a genuine smile, then both he and Kala laugh together.

“You’re a psychic and you didn’t _tell me?_ ” Felix asks incredulously.

“I’m not a psychic,” Wolfgang replies.  He’s not laughing anymore, but his face is calm for the first time Felix has seen in a long time.  It’d be weird if it weren’t so damn relieving to see.

“You’ve been having conversations in your head with people from all over the world for more than a year, and you’re telling me you’re not a psychic?”

This time, it’s just Kala laughing.  “He’s not wrong,” she says, shooting a gentle smile at Wolfgang.

“It’s more complicated than that,” Wolfgang says, only taking his eyes off Kala after he finishes speaking.  Felix thinks he’s going to be sick if they get any cuter.

“But you _have_ been talking to them in your head?” Felix asks, trying to get at least some clarification here.

“Yes.  But not just talking.”  Wolfgang pauses, thinking of how to word it.  “They are…me.  Only not.  We’re still different people, but we’re all-”

“Pieces of the same puzzle,” Kala finishes.

“That’s never going to stop being freaky,” Felix says.  But soon, he softens.  This is weird as hell, but he’s certainly been through worse for his brother.


End file.
